Monachopsis

Chapter LXIV: Dad Gone AWOL

The first thing I felt as I neared consciousness was pain. Blunt, aching, bruising pain. Everywhere. My mind shied away from it, even as I floated closer and closer to the surface.

After the pain, came the rest of sensation. I was aware of the soft bed beneath me, the sheets rough under my fingers. I was aware of the cool air brushing over me in light, soothing waves. I could feel the light scratch of a wet cloth on my skin.

Next was sound. The room was mostly quiet, with the soft ticking of the clock and the sound of the ceiling fan creaking above me. The whisper of clothes rubbing against each other and the huff of soft breathing. The soft scuff of shaggy motel carpet against shoe soles.

I resisted the urge to open my eyes. If being awake hurt this much, I doubted the dark was such a bad place. At least there, I was safe from the bad things. I was scared that if I woke up, I would see those yellow eyes staring back at me.

A hand brushed against my arm, and a searing sting yanked me from the dark. My eyes flew open at the same time my arm jerked away from the offending touch. I immediately regretted both. The light from the lamp on the nightstand burned my eyes, and my entire body objected to any movement.

I groaned, gingerly rubbing a hand over my face. "Damn it."

"Take it easy." Dean's voice accompanied a pair of hands on my shoulders. "How're you feeling?"

"Like I got tossed from a window," I muttered. My palms pressed into my eyes hard enough for bright colors to dance across my vision.

Dean's lips twitched in to a small frown. "Yeah, that's about right. You sure nothing's broken?"

I tested each limb and appendage, moving them this way and that to check the muscles. There were angry red burns tracing the length of my left arm, and every movement sent an ache through my bones, but I was still in one piece. I looked up at Dean and nodded. "Yeah."

Immediately, Dean was on his feet, glaring down at me. "What the hell were you thinking?"

I sighed, pushing myself up against the headboard. "I--"

"How could you be so stupid?" He barked. He was getting worked up, pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? Running into a burning building with no plan and no backup?"

"I'm sorry!" I snapped. His anger peeled back the layers of excuses I'd prepared, exposing bitter shame in their place. "I wasn't thinking!"

"Damn right, you weren't," Dean scoffed. He was shaking his head, fists clenched. But my apology seemed to placate him some. His hostility crumbled as quickly as it came. Left in its place was a deep, wounded worry.

Quickly, I changed the subject. "Have you heard from Dad?"

"Shit," Dean muttered. He dug his cellphone from his pocket, flipped it open, and put it to his ear. He started pacing again as the dial tone droned.

I relaxed against the headboard, my head throbbing. My clothes were scorched and covered in soot residue. My throat and chest burned from all the smoke I'd inhaled, and my burnt arm throbbed and stung. I lifted it gingerly, wincing at the blistered flesh. It shone in the lamplight, and my I grimaced at the thought of pus. But a closer look revealed the pale green tint of aloe vera gel.

"Here." Sam materialized in front of me. His face was grim--almost angry--though his voice was soft as he held out a glass of water and my medication. "Take it."

I did, offering a small grateful smile. He nodded, but otherwise didn't respond. He walked away and planted himself at the foot of the other bed, his back to me. I frowned guiltily. I didn't blame him for being distant. He must be so angry with me.